


narcissus lilium

by stefansgirl



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop & Tattoo Parlor, Angst, Chaos Ensues, Eventual Smut, Fluff, M/M, are you seeing a trend here, atsumu and suna are besties, but suna also loves to deny it, but suna loves to deny it, komori is everyone's emotional support bestie, osamu is extremely hot, plant dad!suna, sakusa and Hinata are piercers, suna is extremely gay, tattoo artist!bokuto, tattoo artist!osamu
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-12 09:23:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28883130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stefansgirl/pseuds/stefansgirl
Summary: As one of the first flowers to bloom in the springtime, narcissus, also commonly referred to as daffodils, symbolize rebirth and new beginnings. Gift this flower to your significant other to tell them ‘you’re the only one, the sun is always shining when i’m with you’suna is a florist and osamu owns the tattoo parlor across the street
Relationships: Miya Osamu/Suna Rintarou
Comments: 46
Kudos: 135
Collections: SunaOsa





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first multi chapter fic and will be updated weekly. I hope you all enjoy :) 
> 
> inspired by [this](https://twitter.com/gnappapon/status/1344579505122369537) beautiful art 
> 
> a huge thanks to my beta reader [littleboat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/littleboat)

“Ooh, is that a customer?” 

Suna squints then shakes his head. “No, that’s the mailman.” 

“Oh.” Komori deflates. Aran pats his shoulder consolingly. 

The three of them watch as the mailman walks past the shop, not sparing a glance inside. When he passes, Suna sighs, draping himself onto the counter. 

Three days. They’ve been open for three days and not one customer has come in yet. He’s starting to doubt that it’ll ever happen. 

“Someone will come in eventually,” Aran says. He’s been trying to raise their spirits for the past three days but Suna can tell that even he’s starting to lose hope. 

“Whatever,” Suna shrugs. “I should’ve known that this wouldn’t work out anyway.” 

“Don’t say that.” Komori frowns. “It’ll take a while for business to pick up but it’ll happen at some point.” 

Suna ignores him and straightens. “I’m gonna go water the irises.”

“That’s the third time today. At this rate you’re gonna drown them,” Aran calls out after him. 

He isn't actually going to water the irises; he’s just sick of staring out the window all day waiting for someone to come in. Even though he appreciates Aran and Komori’s positivity, their constant optimism is starting to grate on his nerves. 

So, he decides to do something more productive, like tend to the flowers. 

He leans down to touch the irises, stroking their petals gently. They seem to wilt in his hands, almost as if they can sense his sadness. He goes to the ferns next, spritzing them with water when he notices their leaves are looking a little dry. Just as he’s about to move on to the lillies, Komori comes running into the greenhouse. 

“Suna,” he exclaims, a wide smile threatening to split his face in half. “There’s a customer.”

Suna’s eyes widen, his jaw dropping. “Are you serious?” 

“Come on!” Komori grabs his hand and drags him to the front of the shop. Faintly, he can hear an unfamiliar voice saying, “Wow, it smells great in here.” 

Suna turns to Komori with wide eyes and an even wider smile. “There really is a customer.” 

“I told you it would happen,” Komori says. 

When they step out into the main part of the shop, Suna’s met with the sight of a blonde man covered in tattoos. They trail up and down his thick arms and peek out from under the edges of his black t-shirt, not leaving an inch of bare skin visible. 

“Hiya,” he greets brightly, waving his hand at Suna. There’s a piercing in his lip, and when he opens his mouth to say hi, Suna sees another glinting on his tongue. A dozen more litter his earlobes

“Hi,” Suna says dumbly, his eyes trailing down to the man’s tattoos. Komori elbows him and Suna straightens up. “Were you looking to buy something?” 

“Well, I was just comin’ to check the place out. I’m from down the street.” He points a thumb behind him and Suna follows the motion to a store directly across from the flower shop. 

He recognizes it as the tattoo parlor that Komori’s cousin works at, which explains the man’s appearance. 

“This property’s been empty for a while so we’re pretty excited to have some new neighbors. Thought I’d stop by and say hi. I’m Atsumu, by the way,” he introduces. 

“Suna Rintarou.” Suna sticks a hand out to shake Atsumu’s. Aran and Komori both take turns introducing themselves. 

Atsumu continues, “Well, Suna, I like what you’ve done with the place. It used to be a bakery but they had to close down because business wasn’t doin’ well,” he explains. “Speakin’ of, how’s business been goin’ for ya?” 

And Suna doesn’t know why but he lies and says, “Good. We’ve been pretty busy.” 

From the corner of his eye he sees Aran’s jaw drop and Komori stifle a laugh. 

Atsumu brightens at that. “That’s great! I’m glad to hear that. We were all worried back at the parlor because it’s been lookin’ pretty empty over here, but clearly we had nothin’ to worry about.”

Suna furrows a brow. “Why would you be worried?” 

“Well, let’s just say the bakery wasn’t the first to close down. Lotsa stores around here have been strugglin’ to keep their doors open.” 

Suna’s heart drops. Beside him, Komori’s shoulders slump and Aran bristles. The devastation must show on their faces because a second later Atsumu is waving his hands in front of his face in apology. “Oh, I didn’t mean to scare ya. I’m sure things are gonna go great for you guys.” 

“Yeah,” Suna mumbles. 

Atsumu claps his hands loudly, trying to break the dampened atmosphere. “Well, I guess I’d like to buy somethin’.” 

Suna shakes his head, laughing dryly. “That’s okay. You don’t have to buy anything.” He doesn’t want their first customer to be compelled to buy something out of pity. 

“No, I really want to,” Atsumu says. “I was hopin’ to get a bouquet for someone.” 

Suna considers him for a moment then nods, leading Atsumu over to the front counter. 

“We specialize in making personalized bouquets that send a message through the flowers,” Suna explains. “Did you just want a random assortment or did you want to pick out specific flowers?” 

Atsumu seems to think for a moment, tugging at the metal in his lip. “I wanna send a message through it. Tell him I love him an’ I’m grateful for him. Cute shit like that.” 

Suna nods. He motions for Atsumu to follow him and leads him throughout the shop, pointing at different flowers and explaining their meanings. Though it would be easier for Suna to allow Atsumu to read the information cards next to the flowers and pick them out himself, Suna’s just happy to interact with a customer. 

Atsumu brightens when he sees ones that he likes and tells Suna to add them to the bouquet. So far they’ve picked up red lilies, which represent passion, carnations, which represent strength and commitment, and violets, which represent faithfulness. 

Atsumu stops when a bunch of light pink flowers catch his eye. “What are these ones?” 

“Tulips.” Suna plucks one from the bunch and holds it up to Atsumu’s nose so he can smell it. “They signify deep and unconditional love. They’re also used to show big declarations of love.” 

Atsumu closes his eyes as he smells the flower, smiling softly at Suna’s words. “I want some of those, then.” 

Suna picks those up, too, adding them to the growing pile in his arms. When they’re done picking out the flowers, they head back to the front so Suna can start arranging them. Atsumu watches him in silence, chiming in to ask questions every once in a while. Suna finds his genuine interest endearing. 

When Suna finishes arranging the bouquet, he asks, “Did you want to write a note, too?” 

“No, that’s okay. I’ll explain to him what all the flowers mean. I think he’ll appreciate that more.” 

Suna hums. He quietly rings Atsumu up, then hands him the bouquet. “You’re all set. Thank you for stopping by.” 

“Of course, Sunarin! Anythin’ ta support you guys.” Atsumu waves goodbye, then turns to leave. He gets halfway to the door, then turns back around. “Say, you should come over with me. Give the guys a chance to meet ya.” 

“I think it’s better if I stay—” 

“Of course he’ll go,” Komori says from behind him, nudging Suna in the side. 

Atsumu smiles. “Great!” 

Suna smiles back, but it comes out as more of a grimace. “I hate you,” he tells Komori in a whisper. 

“The more connections we have the better,” Komori hisses. “Now go out there and make us some friends.” 

“Doesn’t your cousin literally work there?” 

“Kiyoomi’s not exactly the best person to help you grow your social network.” Komori pushes him towards the door. “Now go.” 

Suna rolls his eyes but follows Atsumu anyway. They cross the street to get the parlor, and as soon as they step in, Suna is met with hundreds of framed illustrations of tattoo designs. A display case with every variety of jewelry imaginable takes up most of the room and a black leather couch sits against one of the walls. At the front counter sits a man with dark, curly hair and an even darker expression on his face. 

“Where were you?” he asks as soon as he sees Atsumu. Half his face is covered by a face mask, but Suna can still see the distaste written all over it. 

“I was at Sunarin’s shop,” Atsumu says. 

“Who?” 

Atsumu ignores him and presents the bouquet, bowing dramatically. “For my Omi-Omi, the most beautiful flower in my life.” 

The man tries to keep his face neutral but Suna can tell by the redness creeping up above his mask that he’s blushing. “Where’d you get those from.” 

“I told ya, I was at Sunarin’s shop.” 

When the man furrows a brow, Atsumu steps aside and introduces him. “Omi, this is Sunarin. He owns the flower shop across the street. Sunarin, this is Omi-kun, one of our piercers.” 

The man rolls his eyes at the nickname. “Sakusa Kiyoomi,” he tells Suna. 

So this must be Komori’s cousin. 

“Suna Rintarou.” Sakusa makes no move to shake his hand so Suna doesn’t either. 

Atsumu goes behind the counter to give the bouquet to Sakusa, who pulls his mask down and presses a kiss to Atsumu’s lips. 

“Thank you,” he says. “They’re beautiful.” 

Atsumu brushes a hand through Sakusa’s bangs. “Of course. I’ll tell you what each of the flowers means later. Sunarin taught me all about them.” Atsumu turns back to him. “Speakin’ of, I wanted to introduce ‘im to everyone. Where are they?” 

“Bokuto’s in the middle of a consultation right now and Hinata’s disinfecting some jewelry for the 4:30 appointment,” Sakusa says, still smelling the flowers.

“Oh,” Atsumu says, disappointed. “I dragged ya here for nothin’. Sorry, Sunarin, maybe ya can meet them another time.” 

“It’s fine. I should be heading back anyway.” 

“I’ll walk ya back,” Atsumu offers. 

“It’s just down the street, Atsumu,” Suna says. “I think I can manage.” 

“I’m nothin’ if not a gentleman, Sunarin.” Atsumu smiles. “It’s the least I can do for takin’ up all yer time.” 

Sakusa rolls his eyes at Atsumu then turns to Suna. “He’s not gonna give up until you’ve been personally escorted back to your shop. It’s best to just accept it.” 

Suna shrugs and follows Atsumu out of the parlor. “Bye Sakusa-kun,” he calls on his way out. 

“Bye,” Sakusa says. “Thank you for the flowers.” 

“He seems nice,” Suna says when they’re in front of the flower shop. 

Atsumu smiles, bright and toothy. “He’s the nicest. You can meet the other guys a different time.” 

“I look forward to it,” Suna says. “See you later, Atsumu. It was nice meeting you.” 

“You too! See ya soon, Sunarin.” Atsumu waves at him, already halfway across the street. 

The next time Suna sees Atsumu, it’s a week later when he comes storming into the flower shop, pouting. 

“What’s up with you?” Suna asks from where he’s sweeping up soil from the ground. 

“Samu kicked me out of the parlor.” Atsumu crosses his arms and flops down onto one of the chairs behind the counter. 

“Make yourself comfortable, I guess,” Suna snorts. 

“Shut up, Sunarin. I can’t have ya bein’ mean to me, too.” 

“Why’d you get kicked out?” Suna asks. 

“Samu said I was gettin’ on his nerves and that I had to leave or else he’d stab me with a piercing needle. I didn’t even do anything,” Atsumu huffs. 

“Who’s Samu?” 

“He’s my twin brother.” Atsumu rolls his eyes. “I should’ve eaten him in the womb,” he grumbles. 

“I didn’t know you had a twin,” Suna says. 

“Because he’s an asshole and I don’t make a habit of mentionin’ him to the sweet flower boys that I meet,” Atsumu grumbles. 

“How many other sweet flower boys have you been sneaking around with?” Suna raises a brow. 

“Only you, Sunarin. I promise.” Atsumu clutches at his heart and Suna snorts at his dramatics. 

Just then, Atsumu’s phone rings. He pulls it out and wrinkles his nose when he sees the caller ID. “Speak of the devil.” 

He answers the call and puts the phone on speaker.

“What, Samu?” 

“Are ya home yet?” Suna hears a deep voice on the other end. “I need ya to send me a picture of that design I left at yer apartment.” 

“I didn’t go home.” 

“Where are ya then?” 

“I’m at Sunarin’s flower shop across the street. He’s the only one who’s nice to me.” Suna snorts at that.

“I told ya to go home, idiot.” 

“No, you just told me to leave the parlor. Ya didn’t say anythin’ about goin’ home.” 

“That doesn’t mean you can go harassin’ other business owners.” 

“I’m not _harassin’_ him.” Atsumu rolls his eyes. “Sunarin likes my company.” 

“I’m sure he does,” Osamu says. Suna can practically hear him rolling his eyes. 

“Whatever. I’m comin’ back to the parlor and you can’t stop me,” Atsumu says. “Oh, and I’m bringin’ Sunarin with me,” he adds on before hanging up. 

Suna scoffs. “I’m not coming with you.” 

“Why not?” 

“I have a shop to run, Atsumu. I can’t just leave in the middle of the day.” 

Business has been picking up recently and this time Suna isn’t lying. Ever since the day that Atsumu came by for the first time, more and more people have been stopping by. It seems that Aran and Komori’s optimism has finally paid off. 

“Sure ya can. One of yer workers can stay in the front. It’s not like you’ll be gone long.” 

Suna considers for a moment, remembering what Komori said about making connections. “I guess I can go say hi.” 

“Atta boy.” 

Suna glares at Atsumu then unties his dirt streaked apron, hanging it in the back. He heads over to one of the greenhouses where Aran is watering plants. 

“Hey, I’m gonna go across the street for a couple minutes,” Suna says. “Do you mind staying in the front?” 

“Of course,” Aran says. “Have fun.” 

Suna goes back to the front of the shop to see Atsumu with his nose stuck in an arrangement of flowers. 

“Ew, get off.” Suna drags him off from the back of his shirt. 

“But they smell so good,” Atsumu whines. 

“Not with your snot in them.” Suna glares. 

“Yer such an asshole, Sunarin,” Atsumu huffs. 

“Shut up. Let’s go.” 

They make the short walk to the parlor and this time a man with orange hair sits at the front desk. He perks up when he sees them. 

“You must be Sunarin,” he says brightly. “I’m Hinata Shoyo. It’s nice to meet you!” 

“Nice to meet you too, Hinata-kun. You can just call me Suna.” 

“Shoyo’s also one of our piercers,” Atsumu explains. 

“It’s true,” Hinata says, bouncing slightly in his seat. “I did Atsumu-san’s lip ring. Omi-san did most of his others, though.” 

“This one’s still my favorite, though.” Atsumu winks at him. 

“Stop flirtin’ with Shoyo, ya scrub,” a voice comes from behind them. 

Suna turns around to see a man stepping out of one of the rooms, peeling a pair of gloves off. He looks exactly like Atsumu, but instead of bleach blonde hair, his is still it’s natural dark color. He has just as many tattoos as Atsumu, but where Atsumu’s stop at his collar, his brother’s reach up to his neck, stopping just under his jaw. He has a piercing in his right eyebrow and a couple in his ears, but not nearly as many as Atsumu. 

Suna’s eyes trail down to the muscles that bulge out of his tight, black shirt. 

“I’m not flirting,” Atsumu gasps. “I’m a married man.” 

This definitely takes Suna’s attention off the man in front of him. His brows furrow. “You’re married?” 

“Engaged, actually.” Atsumu holds his left hand up to Suna’s face, wiggling his fingers and showing off a gold ring on his finger. ”Me and Omi are getting married next spring.” Atsumu gasps when he seems to get an idea. “Hey! You can do the flower arrangement for it.” 

“I would love to,” Suna says. 

“So you must be Suna,” his brother says, holding out a tattooed hand for Suna to shake. “Miya Osamu.” 

“Nice to meet you.” Suna shakes his hand. “I’ve heard a lot about you.” 

“All bad things, I’m assumin’.” Osamu raises a brow. 

“Maybe if ya weren’t such an ass I wouldn’t be tellin’ ‘im bad things.” Atsumu glares at him. 

Osamu responds by flipping him off. 

“Didn’t I tell ya I didn’t want ya here?” 

“Well good thing yer not the boss of me.” 

“That’s because ya don’t even work here. Ya just come here to annoy all of us.” 

“You don’t work here?” Suna’s really learning a lot about Atsumu today. 

“Nope. I do tattoos sometimes but I actually work remote as a software engineer.” 

“Like I said,” Osamu rolls his eyes. “He just hangs out here to piss us off.” 

“Not true,” Atsumu huffs. “I stay here because my brother, my closest friends, and my fiance all work here. All the important people in my life under one roof.” 

“Aw, Atsumu-san,” Hinata says. “Don’t listen to what Osamu-san says. I love it when you’re here.” 

“Watch it, Shoyo,” Osamu warns. “In this war you should be siding with the guy who controls yer paycheck, not the freeloading scrub.” 

“Nevermind,” Hinata says, then deepens his voice to sound like Osamu’s. “Get the fuck out, scrub.” 

They all burst into laughter at the sudden change in his demeanor, and Suna sees that there are actual tears in Atsumu’s eyes. 

“Gosh, Shoyo, ya really are the funniest guy ever.” 

  
  


Suna is in the middle of ringing up a customer when the printer starts buzzing; the receipt that was printing suddenly stops, jamming in the printer. He pulls it out, and instead of neatly printed letters and numbers, smudges of black ink are stamped on the bottom of the receipt. 

He apologizes to the customer, and after she leaves, Suna opens the printer and takes out the empty roll of plastic, tossing it in the recycling bin. 

He opens the drawers around the cash register, looking for another roll of receipt paper. He kneels down, checking the cabinets, and even goes to the supply closet in the back to look for some. When he turns up empty handed, he tracks down Komori, who’s pruning plants in the greenhouse. 

“Do we have more receipt paper?” 

Komori pauses for a moment then shakes his head. “I put in the last roll a couple days ago. I think the next shipment is supposed to come in later this week.” 

Suna sighs. “What should we do, then?” 

“Do you wanna go to the supply store and buy some more?” 

Suna raises an unimpressed brow, prompting Komori to laugh. “I’ll take that as a no.” 

“Do you think we can just do digital receipts for the next couple days?” 

“We could,” Komori says. “But I think some people are gonna insist on physical copies.” 

Komori’s right and Suna knows it. 

“Oh,” Komori brightens. “You can go ask if they have some at the parlor.” 

“Can’t you go?” Suna asks. 

Komori raises the shears. “I’m busy. Sorry,” he says unapologetically. 

Suna rolls his eyes and throws a twig at him. “I’m gonna tell your mom how unwilling you are to see your cousin.” 

“I literally saw him yesterday.” Komori says. “Now go before we get another customer.” 

Suna glares at him before untying his apron and hanging it up on the hook near the door. When he gets to the parlor, the main room is empty, and Suna assumes they must all be busy. 

He stands at the front desk for a minute, looking around the parlor. One of the drawings on the wall catches his eye and he walks over to take a closer look. He examines it for a moment, taking in the fine lines and delicate strokes that make up the flower petals. The colors mimic the shades of pink and green that Suna has waiting for him back at the shop. It’s an impressive piece, and the longer he looks, the more details he notices. 

“Ya like it?” A voice from behind him says. 

Suna jumps, bringing a hand up to his racing heart. He turns around to see Osamu standing near the front desk, smiling softly. 

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare ya,” he says, walking over to Suna.

“No, it’s fine,” Suna says, turning back to the drawing. “And yeah, it’s nice. Did you draw this?” 

Osamu nods. “Most of the art up here’s mine.” 

Suna continues to survey the wall, taking in the dozens of designs that are hung up. The drawings vary in style; some pieces are done in simple, elegant lines, while others are intricate pieces with thick strokes and heavy shading. Suna finds himself entranced as he takes in all the art surrounding him. 

Osamu clears his throat. “So, did ya need anythin’?” 

“Oh.” Suna snaps out of his daze. He almost forgot why he was here in the first place. “I was wondering if you guys had any receipt paper. We ran out.” 

“I’m pretty sure we do,” Osamu says. “Gimme a second while I go check.” 

Osamu comes back a minute later and hands him the paper. 

“Yer in luck. This is our last roll.” 

“Oh.” Suna’s hand stills. “You can keep it then.” 

“It’s fine.” Osamu pushes it back to him. “Most of our clients don’t ask for a receipt anyway.” 

“Are you sure?” Suna asks. “I can figure something else out. Our next shipment is coming in a few days.” 

“Then I guess you’ll just have to come back and bring me a roll when they come in.” The corner of his lip tilts up into a lopsided grin and Suna finds it hard to look away from Osamu’s face.

“Um, yeah,” Suna says. “I will.” 

“Was that all, then?” Osamu asks after a moment of silence. 

“Yeah.” Suna steps back. “I should get going. Thank you.” 

He turns to leave but when he’s halfway to the door, Osamu calls out to him, making him turn back around. 

“Maybe you can stick around for a little,” he says, reaching a hand up to rub the back of his neck. “I have some more designs in my portfolio that I think you’d like.” 

Suna blinks and looks at Osamu for a moment, watching as he seems to grow nervous. 

“I need to bring this back to the shop.” He holds up the roll of receipt paper. “Komori’s waiting on me.” 

“Right.” Osamu clears his throat. Suna doesn’t miss the hint of disappointment in his voice. 

Suna really should be on his way now, but for some reason, the expression on Osamu’s face makes him falter, and he finds himself saying, “Maybe I could come back during my lunch break.” 

The responding grin Osamu flashes him is enough to erase all traces of guilt. 

Two hours later when Suna shows up to the parlor on his lunch break, Osamu is in the middle of sketching out a design. When he looks up and sees Suna, he smiles and closes the sketchbook. 

“What, you’re not gonna show me?” Suna raises a brow. 

“This one’s not done yet,” Osamu says. “You came so I could show ya some of my best pieces, not a half done sketch.” 

“If it’s anything like those ones up there,” he points to the drawings on the wall, “Then I’m sure it’s still amazing.” 

Osamu just shrugs. “Didja eat yet?” 

“No, I came straight here.” 

“How long do ya have?” 

“Thirty minutes.” 

Osamu disappears into a room and comes back with a bag of food. He pulls out an onigiri and a bottle of water and hands them to Suna.

When Suna raises a brow, Osamu says, “What, ya thought I’d take up yer lunch break without actually givin’ ya lunch?” 

Osamu leads him over to the leather couch and spreads the book across their laps, beginning to flip through while Suna unwraps the onigiri and takes a bite. 

His first thought is that Osamu is way too close to him. Their thighs are pressed together and a couple of times, when Osamu reaches a finger to point out the small details of a drawing, their hands brush against each other. 

Suna finds himself getting lost in the drawl of his voice, the warmth of his body against Suna’s, the shine in his eyes when he points out a design he’s really proud of. 

He spends the next half hour flipping through the portfolio with Osamu’s warm thigh pressed against his and if you asked Suna to recall even one design from the book, he honest to god wouldn’t be able to. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may have earned my metaphorical degree in botany from all the hours I spent researching for this fic, but that doesn't mean I actually know anything about flowers. so if for some reason, you're extremely knowledgeable about flowers and notice any inaccuracies or discrepancies, pls don't clock me on them :)
> 
> thank you all for reading! I hope you enjoy and look forward to the coming chapters! kudos and comments are greatly appreciated
> 
> come say hi on [twitter](https://twitter.com/atsum00s) !


	2. Chapter 2

Suna's bent down pulling out weeds in the greenhouse the next time one of the twins comes by. He doesn’t hear the bell on the door chime, so when there’s a figure suddenly looming over him, he gasps and stumbles, clutching at his chest. 

“Holy shit.” 

“Sorry, I’m really not meanin’ for this to become a recurrin’ theme.” Osamu laughs and helps him up, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment. “Aran-kun said I could find ya here.” 

“Do you need something?” Suna asks, pulling his thick gardening gloves off. 

“I was just lookin’ to see if Tsumu was here,” Osamu says. “He left the parlor a couple hours ago and he hasn’t been answerin’ his phone.” 

Suna shakes his head. “He’s not here. Is everything okay?” He asks with a furrowed brow. 

“Him an’ Sakusa were arguin’ ‘bout somethin’ last I remember, but I’m not really sure what. Sakusa’s not pickin’ up his phone either.” 

“I can try calling him,” Suna pulls out his phone.

“That’d be great. Thanks.” 

Suna dials Atsumu’s number and, to his and Osamu’s surprise, he answers on the third ring. 

“Sunarin,” he says happily. “Glad yer finally makin’ use of my number.” 

He puts the phone on speaker so Osamu can hear, too. “Where are you? Your brother’s looking for you.” 

“Aw, I thought ya were callin’ ‘cause ya actually missed me. I should’ve known this had Samu’s grubby fingerprints all over it.” 

Osamu rolls his eyes and takes the phone from Suna’s hand. “Where are ya, idiot?” 

“Me and Omi-kun are on a date.” 

“Weren’t you two just fighting?” Suna furrows a brow. 

“Yeah, but now we’re on a date. How else are you ‘sposed to get through an argument?” 

“Communication,” Osamu says at the same time that Suna says, “sex.” 

They look at each other, taken aback, and Suna just shrugs when Osamu raises a brow at him. 

“Communication and sex,” Atsumu says. “Gimme a second while I write that down.” 

“Communication _then_ sex,” Osamu says. “The order matters.” 

“Who needs a couple’s therapist when I have you two,” Atsumu whistles. 

“You better get back to your date before you actually will be needing a couple’s therapist,” Suna says. 

Atsumu laughs. “Yer a funny guy, Sunarin. I’ll see ya later.”

“Hopefully not,” Suna says. 

“Say,” Osamu says after Atsumu hangs up. “Have ya eaten lunch yet?” 

“Depends.” Suna raises a brow. “Are you buying?” 

“I wouldn’t be askin’ if I wasn’t offerin’.” 

“Then, no, I haven’t eaten yet.” 

Osamu grins. 

“So I assume ya haven’t been in many long term relationships.” Osamu says around a bite of rice. 

They decided to eat at a restaurant a block away from their shops. Osamu ordered rice and curry and Suna ordered yakisoba. A couple side dishes sit between them for the two of them to share. 

“Nothing serious.” Suna shrugs. “Why?” 

Osamu raises a brow. “The fact that ya think arguments should be resolved by sex kinda gave me a clue.”

Suna shrugs again. “There’s few things that sex can’t fix.” 

“I beg to differ.” 

“How many serious relationships have you been in then, oh wise one?” 

Osamu cracks a smile. “Not any that really matter.”

“How come?” 

“Well, I’ve got the theory down,” Osamu says. “The execution’s a whole ‘nother story.” 

“Unfortunately, that’s the case with most things,” Suna sighs. “My last relationship ended pretty badly. I thought everything was alright but apparently he didn’t agree.” 

“So yer…” Osamu trails off. 

“Gay,” Suna answers. “You?” 

He’s almost nervous to hear Osamu’s answer. Obviously he’s not homophobic seeing as how his twin brother is in a relationship with another man, but that doesn’t mean that Osamu had the same preferences. 

“I prefer men but it doesn’t really matter to me.” Osamu shrugs. “I care more about a person’s character, I guess.” 

Suna breathes out a sigh of relief. 

“Yeah, I get that.” 

“Ma almost had a heart attack when she found out, though.” Osamu smiles fondly at the memory. 

At Suna’s raised brow, he continues. “Don’t get me wrong, she’s extremely supportive, but I think she was more worried about the fact that she wasn’t gonna have any grandchildren. When Tsumu came out to her, she started researching adoption agencies that night. We didn’t have the heart to tell her that at fourteen, neither of us were looking to adopt anytime soon.” 

Suna snorts. “It’s nice how involved she is, though.” 

“Yeah, we got lucky,” Osamu hums. “How’d yer parents react?” 

“There was never really a specific moment when I came out to them,” Suna shrugs. “I think a part of them always knew.” 

“Parents always know,” Osamu nods. 

“One time my mom slid a gay sex pamphlet under my door,” Suna shakes his head. “It was so fucking humiliating. That’s when I knew she had figured it out for sure.” 

“Ya think _that_ was humiliating? You got off easy. Ma sat me and Tsumu down and gave us a whole lesson about it, graphics and all.”

“No,” Suna gasps. 

Osamu was shaking his head, trying to get his words out between laughter. “That’s not even the worst part. Tsumu got a boner halfway through when we were watchin’ an ‘educational video,’ which was just a nicer way of sayin’ porn, and ran to our bedroom crying. Ma had to go comfort ‘im and tell ‘im that it was a normal reaction.” 

“No fucking way.” Suna slaps a hand over his mouth in mortification. “I would literally never show my face again.” 

“Don’t tell him I told you that. I think he’d actually skin me.” 

“How the hell did he survive that?” 

“Tsumu is the most shameless person I’ve ever met.” Osamu rolls his eyes. “He goes through life not caring what anyone thinks.” 

“I kinda admire that about him, though.” 

Osamu scoffs. “Please don’t ever compliment him in my presence.” 

“You’re too harsh on him.” Suna rolls his eyes. “I wish I had half the confidence he has. The way he talks to people is so easy. It’s kinda refreshing to see someone say whatever’s on their mind.” 

“He wasn’t always like that,” Osamu says. “He used to be really unlikable. Believe it or not, I was considered the nice twin when we were younger.” 

Suna squints, tilting his head. “Yeah, I don’t see it.” 

“Watch it, Rin.” Osamu glares, but there’s a hint of a smile on his face. “Yer gettin’ too brave.” 

_Rin._

Suna’s heart beats faster at the nickname that slips so easily from Osamu’s lips. 

When they first met, Osamu and Atsumu looked the same to Suna. Only Osamu’s darker hair set them apart. Looking at him now, Suna realizes how wrong he was.

Atsumu is all easy smiles and loud laughter where Osamu’s more reserved. Not many things make him laugh, but when they do, it makes it all the more special. The corners of his eyes crinkle and the tip of his tongue pokes out between his teeth, and Suna finds himself getting a little breathless every time. 

Most things Osamu does seem to take Suna’s breath away. It’s one thing after another. When Osamu holds the restaurant door open, Suna’s knees go weak when he catches a whiff of his cologne. And again when Suna catches Osamu ogling his noodles and offers him a taste. 

This ends up being a big mistake because the way Osamu’s lips wrapped around the noodles make Suna’s mouth go dry and he has to take a big gulp of water in a vain attempt to rid himself of such unholy thoughts, nearly choking in the process. 

And now, Osamu has taken to calling him Rin, which under normal circumstances, would not be a problem, however, nothing about Osamu is normal. 

Which brings him to his current predicament: Suna is entirely too gay to be around Miya Osamu. 

  
  


“Did you lose Atsumu again?” Suna asks the next time Osamu walks in.

Osamu smiles and shakes his head. The sight makes something tug in Suna’s chest. “Nah, I’m actually here for you this time.” 

“Oh? To what do I owe the honor?” 

“I had a client request a flower tattoo and I wanted to come by to get some inspiration.” 

Suna raises a brow. “You haven’t tattooed a flower before?” 

“Of course I have,” Osamu says. “But sometimes ya need a little somethin’ extra to inspire ya.” 

“So you’re saying I’m your muse?” 

Osamu shrugs. “If ya wanna call it that.” 

“Flattery’s not gonna get you anywhere.” Suna narrows his eyes. 

Osamu plucks a flower from the arrangement closest to them— a daisy—and tucks it behind Suna’s ear. “Won’t it?” 

“You’re still gonna have to pay for that,” Suna deadpans. 

Osamu watches him for a moment then smiles. “Pretty.” 

Suna tries to keep his expression neutral, but he can already feel the blush spreading across his cheeks. 

He huffs, pulling the flower off. “Did you just come here to flirt with me or did you actually wanna look at some flowers.” 

“Of course I came to look at flowers,” Osamu says with wide eyes. “Would I ever lie to ya?” 

When Suna just crosses his arms, Osamu sighs. 

“My client’s mom died last year and she wants to get a tattoo to remember her by,” he explains. “She didn’t really know which flowers she wanted in specific so I told her I’d do some research then talk through the options with her.” 

“Google’s free, you know.”

“Well, I had to make sure my sources were reliable,” Osamu says, a teasing smile playing on his lips. “I trust that ya know more than Google.”

Suna rolls his eyes but leads Osamu over to a wall of flowers. “It honestly depends on the kind of message she wants to show through the tattoo. Is it more of mourning or remembrance?” 

“Uh, what’s the difference?” 

“I guess it’s the emotions associated with them.” Suna says. 

“If she wants to remember her mom by happy emotions then I would say the gladiolus would be a good option.” Suna points to a white flower with pink tips. “This one represents strength and integrity. It’s a flower that’s commonly left on gravestones because it sends a message of honor and remembrance.” 

Osamu nods. “That’s a good option.” 

Suna leads him over to a different flower. “This one’s a crimson rose. It’s also usually used when someone you love passes away, but this one has more of a darker meaning,” Suna explains. “It’s more about mourning and sorrow, a sadder way to remember her mom.” 

“I didn’t know flowers had all these different meanings,” Osamu says, picking up one of the roses and twirling the stem between two fingers. 

“You can say a lot through flowers.” 

Osamu looks deep in thought for a minute. “I think she’d wanna remember her by happier emotions. Can ya show me more flowers that have similar meanings to the first one?” 

“Of course,” Suna smiles. 

It happens a couple more times and it quickly becomes Suna’s favorite part of the day. 

Osamu comes into the flower shop and asks for Suna’s opinions or recommendations on a tattoo. Suna walks him through the shop, explaining the meanings of different flowers, receiving Osamu’s undivided attention. 

Osamu continues to flirt with him and each time, Suna huffs and puffs and pretends like it doesn’t affect him, when in reality, he spends every half hour after Osamu leaves in the greenhouse, trying to calm his racing heart. 

And even though Osamu isn’t necessarily visiting the shop to see him, Suna can still pretend like he is. 

One day, after the fifth time Osamu has come in, he tells him. “We should start workin’ together. Like make this an official collaboration or somethin’.” 

“How would we do that?” 

“I could post on our Instagram that we’re teaming up with you guys to design more meaningful tattoos,” Osamu says. “You could also sit in on the tattoo consultations so you could explain directly to the client what their tattoo is gonna mean.” 

“Would anyone even be interested in that?” Suna asks. 

“Believe it or not, flowers are our most highly requested tattoos.” 

“Well, I don’t see why not, then,” Suna says. 

Not only is Suna excited to be able to share his love and knowledge of flowers with people, but he’s also secretly pleased that he’ll get to spend more time with Osamu. 

“Great,” Osamu grins. “I’ll work out the details later today then try to get the post up by tomorrow. I think this’ll be good for the both of us.” 

Their first client, a young guy who introduces himself as Semi Eita, rolls through the door a week later requesting a design to symbolize the success of his band. 

Suna talks him through a couple options: a tiger lily, which represents long lasting wealth and prosperity, a white heather which gives protection and the promise that all wishes will come true, and a nemophila which represents victory and success. 

He finally decides on the heather, and Suna watches as Osamu sketches out a design for the tattoo. He shows the finished sketch to Semi who flashes them a megawatt smile and requests an appointment as soon as possible. 

They set the tattoo appointment for the following week. 

When he leaves, Osamu turns to him with a grin. “We make a great team don't we?” 

Suna can’t help the smile spreading across his face. “Yeah, I guess we do.” 

One day, a couple weeks after their first consultation, Suna gets a call from Osamu. 

“Ya hungry?” Osamu asks when Suna picks up. 

Suna _is_ hungry but when he looks up at the clock and sees the time, he sighs. 

“I don’t have time to go out for lunch right now. I have a big order that has to be ready in two hours. Sorry.” 

“That’s fine. We don’t hafta go out. I was gonna bring over food anyway.” 

Suna considers this for a moment. Osamu has taken to dropping Suna off homemade lunches. The first time it happened, Suna screamed and took a dozen photos of Osamu posing with the bento, his face unnaturally red. By the time he was done taking pictures, the food had gotten cold and Osamu refused to speak to him for the rest of the day. 

Suna smiles at the memory and decides that having lunch with Osamu today wouldn’t hurt. 

“I guess I could spare a couple minutes.” 

“Great.” Suna can hear the smile in Osamu’s voice. “Should I come over now?” 

“Yeah. I’m in greenhouse B. Come in through the back door.” 

When Osamu hangs up, Suna continues snipping off flowers from their stems and bringing them over to the table. 

A minute later, he hears the door to the greenhouse open and Osamu’s voice call out to him. 

“Over here,” Suna calls back. 

Osamu walks over to where Suna is kneeling next to a camellia bush. 

“This place is so cool,” Osamu says, looking around the greenhouse. “How come I've never been in here before?” 

Suna follows Osamu’s line of vision, looking around, too. Where greenhouse A is mainly for plants, greenhouse B looks less like it belongs in a garden shop and more like a cottage garden with dozens of different flower bushes filling a small clearing. Green ivy trails down the walls and a large willow tree stands off to the side. Sunlight filters in through the leaves and casts shadows on the stone table that sits under it. 

Suna shrugs. “We don’t use it that much because most of the plants are in the other greenhouse.” 

“Whaddya use it for then?” 

“People can rent out this space for parties and bridal showers and stuff. I mainly come in here to plan arrangements when I get sick of being inside the shop.”

Osamu hums, taking one more glance around. “I bet it’s a nice place to sit an’ think.” 

“It is.” 

“Designing a piece in here would be nice, too,” Osamu says, brushing a hand over a flower petal. “Inspiration would come so easily to me here.” 

Suna walks over to the small sink near the door and starts scrubbing the dirt off his hands.

“Well you’re welcome to come in here and draw whenever you want,” he says over his shoulder. 

Osamu comes over to stand next to him. 

“Really?” He raises a brow, a smile playing on his lips. “I wouldn’t hafta rent it out?” 

A grin tugs at the corners of Suna’s mouth. Two can play at that game. “Nah, you just have to pay the entrance fee.” 

“And what’s that?” Osamu moves in a little closer, leaning his arm on the side of the sink. 

“Whatever you want,” Suna says. “I’ll be generous and let you decide.” 

“Do ya let all yer customers choose their method of payment or am I just special?” Osamu raises a teasing brow. 

“Don’t flatter yourself. You’re the least special out of all my customers.” 

Osamu clutches at his heart. “Ya wound me, Rin.” 

“Shut up.” Suna rolls his eyes. “I change my mind. An idiot like you shouldn’t be allowed to choose the payment method.” 

“That’s unfortunate.” Osamu leans in even closer and surely Suna is imagining the way Osamu’s eyes seem to flicker down to his lips. “I bet I could come up with some pretty good ways.” 

His eyes seem to be burning a hole into Suna’s face, and the close proximity coupled with Osamu’s gaze makes his head spin. He falters for a second before turning the water off and shaking the excess off his hands. 

Osamu just watches him with a small smile on his face, his expression smug. 

He straightens and holds the bag up. “C’mon, let’s eat.” 

Suna nods, taking a deep breath to compose himself, then follows Osamu to the table. 

They eat quickly, and as soon as they’re done, Suna pushes the empty bags away from him and brings the flowers forward. 

“Whatcha workin’ on?” Osamu asks. 

“Some bouquets,” Suna says. “They’re for an engagement party.” 

Osamu hums, watching Suna fold the flowers in heavy wrapping paper. 

While Suna continues to work, Osamu takes the liberty of looking around some more. He gazes up at the willow tree for a moment, a small smile on his face. 

“What?” Suna asks. 

Osamu breaks out of his daze. “What?” 

“I don’t know,” Suna says. “You have this weird look on your face.” 

“It’s just really nice in here.” 

Suna's lips tilt up into a smile. “You really like this place, huh?” 

“It’s just so cool. Well cool’s not really the right word to describe it.” Osamu thinks about it for a moment. “Majestic maybe? I dunno but it feels like I’m in another realm, like an enchanted forest or somethin’.” 

“Enchanted forest?” Suna raises a brow. 

“Yeah like with princes and dragons and stuff,” Osamu says completely serious. 

Suna laughs again, shaking his head. “And who are you in this other realm?”

“The brave knight, of course.” Osamu grins. 

“Who does that make me then? The princess you have to rescue?” 

Suna means it as a joke, but when Osamu doesn’t laugh, the smile fades from his own face and panic starts to set in. Did he sound stupid? Was he too forward? Did Osamu take it the wrong way? 

His thoughts are cut off by Osamu’s voice. 

“Nah,” he finally says, all traces of humor gone from his voice. “You’d be like the ethereal tree nymph or somethin’.” 

He doesn’t say this with his usual cheekiness that’s reserved for the sole purpose of making Suna flustered. Instead, he says it like it’s a fact, and that’s what makes Suna’s heart stop. 

He blinks. “What?”

“Well you’ve got the whole plant thing goin’ on.” Osamu explains, clueless to the mild heart attack he’d just given Suna. He motions at the flowers in Suna’s hand. “And the greenhouse is kinda yer forest. I’m just the traveller from a distant land who wandered in here and was too captivated by ya to leave.” 

Suna feels his heart rate pick up and he almost wants to hide his face from Osamu’s gaze. 

“I thought you were the knight,” he says quietly. 

"What can I say?" Osamu shrugs. “I’m not so brave around ya.” 

He sounds defeated when he says this, like it’s a sad fact and there’s nothing he can do to change it. 

Suna turns his head back to the flowers, hoping this angle prevents Osamu from seeing the blush spreading on his cheeks. “You’re stupid.” 

“I’m not stupid, yer stupid.” Osamu grumbles, and he sounds like such a child that Suna can’t help but laugh. 

“Samu, shut up.” He throws a twig at Osamu’s face, then laughs again when Osamu splutters. “You’re such a baby.” 

“Whatever.” Osamu sighs. “Yer just mad because I’m a knight that gets ta go on cool adventures and yer stuck in the forest all day.” 

His face is impassive but the longer Suna stares at him, eyebrow raised, he eventually breaks, cracking a smile. 

“You’re such a nerd.” 

Osamu laughs. “You like it.” 

And Suna doesn’t want to admit that yes, he does, in fact, like it. 

Osamu swipes his arm across the area in front of him to remove the stray petals and stems then crosses his arms on the table, laying his head in the crook of his elbow. His face relaxes, eyelids drooping slightly, but he keeps his eyes trained on Suna, who’s still putting together a bouquet. 

“Tired?” Suna raises an eyebrow. 

Osamu nods. “Stayed up late last night talkin’ to a client.”

Suna snorts. “You couldn’t tell them to come back during work hours?” 

“He’s an old friend.” Osamu smiles, “Besides, I don’t mind stayin’ late to help someone out.” 

“Of course you wouldn’t,” Suna says under his breath, rolling his eyes. 

“Shut up.” Osamu laughs softly. “Don’t act like ya wouldn’t do the same thing for one of yer customers.”

Suna just shrugs.

Osamu lets out a loud yawn, laying his head more comfortably on his elbow. “I’m gonna take a nap. Wake me up in half an hour.” 

Suna hums but doesn’t look up from the bouquet.

“You’ll stay here?” Osamu asks, a little quieter. 

Osamu looks adorable with his head tucked in the crook of his arm, eyes a little hazy from exhaustion. Suna’s heart lurches and he quickly glances at the clock. “I’ll be here for the next hour and a half at least.” 

“Okay, good.” Osamu smiles softly as his eyes fall shut. 

Suna continues working on the bouquets, cutting stems and tying ribbons and crinkling the wrapping paper this way and that. Eventually, though, it becomes harder and harder for him to ignore the man beside him. 

At some point while they were eating, they had shifted closer together and now sit an inch apart from each other, their thighs almost touching. 

Suna had been sneaking glances at Osamu all day but with Osamu now dozing, there’s nothing to stop Suna from shamelessly looking at him. He studies Osamu’s face, taking in his long eyelashes and the slight furrow in his brow. The right side of his face is squished against his arm, making his lips jut out into a pout and his cheek smush together. Suna fights the urge to reach a hand out and poke at it. 

He places his elbow on the table and props his head against his hand so he can watch Osamu. He knows that Osamu’s not fully asleep and he really hopes that he doesn’t open his eyes and catch Suna staring at him like this because that would result in a very awkward conversation. 

A lock of hair falls into Osamu’s eyes and before he can think about what he’s doing, Suna is reaching a hand up to brush it away. When he realizes what he’s done, his eyes widen and he goes to snatch his hand away but before he can, Osamu leans into the touch. 

Suna freezes. He doesn’t know whether to pull away or press closer. Luckily, Osamu makes the decision for him.

“Feels good,” he mumbles without opening his eyes. “Keep goin’.” 

Suna watches him for another second and with a tentative hand, strokes his fingers through Osamu’s hair. He brushes through the soft strands, tucking a piece behind Osamu’s ear and hoping Osamu doesn’t notice the way his fingers are shaking.

Osamu seems to relax further under his touch, the furrow in his eyebrow smoothing out as he burrows deeper into his elbow. 

Suna feels something tug in his chest at the sigh. 

Still, he continues moving his fingers through Osamu’s hair, scratching softly at his scalp and relishing in the look of contentment on his face. 

After a couple minutes, Suna’s hand stills, prompting Osamu to let out a disappointed whine. 

“I have to finish these within the next hour.” Suna reminds him. 

“Okay. Get back to it then.” 

“I will,” Suna says, but his hand remains in Osamu’s hair, stroking softly.

They stay like that for the next twenty minutes. 

The next day, at approximately the same time, Osamu shows up with another lunch for them to eat together in the greenhouse, and Suna can’t help the way his heart seems to grow three sizes in his chest. 

It’s a couple days later when Komori tracks him down in the greenhouse and hands him a paper filled with Osamu’s messy scrawl. Suna skims it quickly and sees that it’s the notes for one of their consultations. 

“Samu’s here?” Suna asks, hating the way he's suddenly excited. 

“He just stopped by to give this to you,” Komori says, pulling a pair of gloves on and picking up a trowel. “He said he has an appointment soon so he couldn’t stay and talk.”

“Oh.” 

He folds the paper and puts it in his back pocket then picks his hoe back up and continues cutting through the weeds. Beside him, Komori starts transferring dirt into pots. 

After a couple minutes, Komori leans back on his heels, brushing his hair away from his face with the back of his wrist. 

“You and him have been spending a lot of time together,” he says. 

Suna wraps a hand around a weed and pulls hard. “We’ve had a lot of consultations recently.” 

“I mean outside of the consultations.” 

“We eat lunch together sometimes.” Suna shrugs. “I like his company.”

“Are you sure it’s not something more?” 

Suna looks up at Komori and rolls his eyes at the knowing look on his face. “It’s not like that between us.” 

“Are you sure?” Komori raises a brow. “From where I'm standing it looks like it’s exactly that between you.” 

“In what way?” 

“Oh, come on, Suna.” Komori rolls his eyes. “Stop acting like you guys aren’t constantly flirting.” 

“Samu just likes to mess around with me.” Suna shakes his head. “He doesn’t actually mean any of that stuff he says.” 

“So you’re saying he doesn’t have feelings for you?” 

“Of course not.” 

“Okay, well do you have feelings for him?”

“I—“ Suna cuts off. “Maybe. I don’t know. Why do you even care?” 

“I was just wondering.” Komori shrugs.

They continue to work quietly. Another minute passes and Komori looks back up at him with a smile. “You seem a lot happier recently.” 

Suna scowls. “I’m always happy.” 

At this, Komori raises a brow. Suna glares at him but Komori continues to watch him, unimpressed.

“Okay so he makes me happy.” Suna throws his hands up in defeat. “What’s the problem with that?” 

Komori smiles at him again. “There is no problem. That’s my whole point.”

“If there’s no problem then shut up about it.” 

He tries to sound resolute but the blush creeping over his face says otherwise. 

“You should tell him how you feel.” 

Suna turns to Komori, a sour expression on his face. Komori continues staring at him with that knowing look that makes Suna wanna rip his head off. 

“I’d rather shoot myself.” 

“You’re so dramatic.” Komori shakes his head. 

Suna narrows his eyes. “Well you’re a meddler. And you’re annoying. Pick a struggle, Komori.” 

Komori throws his head back and laughs loudly. 

In the months that have passed since they began their collaboration, Suna and Osamu have had about four tattoo consultations a week. 

“I didn’t realize your parlor was so popular,” Suna says one day after finishing up a two hour consultation. 

“Gotta stay busy somehow.” Osamu shrugs. 

The flower shop has also gotten a lot busier. They receive dozens of calls a day for bouquet orders and have even been booked a few times to do larger arrangements for parties. 

Even though it’s stressful at times, Suna enjoys the feeling of being busy and he’s happy that business is finally picking up. 

“Another client?” Suna asks when he gets a phone call from Osamu one day. 

“This one’s kinda different. Come over and I’ll explain,” Osamu says. “And bring some flowers with you.” 

“What kind—“ Osamu hangs up before Suna can even finish asking. 

“Okay, then,” he mutters to himself. 

Suna gets up and grabs a couple different types of flowers, then leaves the shop to go across the street. 

When he enters the parlor, Sakusa is sitting at the front desk again and one of the other tattoo artists, Bokuto, is sitting on the black leather couch. 

“Hey, Suna,” he says brightly. “Samu’s in that room.” 

Bokuto points to the room that Suna recognizes as the tattoo room, not the consultation room they usually meet in. He knocks on the door. 

“Come in,” Osamu calls out. 

Suna walks in to see Osamu sitting on a chair with a tray of dark blue ink and some paper towels laid out in front of him. 

“Hi,” Suna greets, walking over to Osamu and taking a seat in the chair next to him.

“Hey, Rin.” His back is turned to Suna but when he finally turns around to look at him, he snorts, “Didn’t realize we were gardenin’ today.” 

“What?” Suna furrows a brow. 

He looks down to see that he still has his green apron on. The front of it is streaked with dirt from when he was repotting flowers earlier. 

“Oh, I forgot to take it off.” Suna reaches behind his back to untie the strings, but Osamu grabs his hand, stopping the motion. 

“No, leave it.” 

The feeling of Osamu’s warm hand on his makes Suna falter. He lowers his hand slowly. 

“Well, it’s just that our activity today might be a little more messy. I wouldn’t want ya to stain yer shirt.” Suna notices that Osamu’s face looks a little red.

“Right.” He clears his throat. “Um, I brought the flowers.” 

“Great,” Osamu says. He hands Suna a pair of gloves. “Set them down right here and put these on.” 

Suna pulls the gloves on. “What are we doing today?” He asks, eyeing the ink. 

“A client requested a flower print tattoo,” Osamu says. “It’s where you dip the flower into ink then put it straight onto the skin, creatin’ a sorta stencil out of the actual flower.” 

Suna furrows a brow. “What’s the point of that? Wouldn’t the tattoo just end up looking messy?” 

“It’s supposed to make it look more natural. So instead of getting a picture of a flower tattooed, yer gettin’ the actual imprint of it,” Osamu explains. “It’s definitely more abstract but some people like that look.” 

“I guess that makes sense,” Suna says. “Have you ever done one before?” 

“We’re about to do one right now.” 

“You’re gonna tattoo yourself right now?” Suna furrows his brow. 

“Who said I’m doin’ it on myself?” Osamu grins.

“Who then?” Osamu just continues to smile at him. Suna’s eyes widen. “You don’t mean— you wanna do it on _me_?” 

“I don’t really have that much blank space to test it on myself. It’ll just be the ink on yer skin, not an actual tattoo. It’ll fade in a couple days.” 

Suna thinks it over for a minute. If he gets it on his arm, then no one will really see it, and honestly, he doesn't really mind having a temporary tattoo on his body. 

“Only if that’s somethin’ yer okay with, though.” Osamu must mistake his silence as reluctance. 

“I guess that would be fine.” 

“Great,” Osamu grins. “Pick which flower ya want.” 

Suna looks at the selection. He brought marigolds, violets, daffodils, and red hibiscus flowers. 

“This one.” He picks up the daffodil and hands it to Osamu. 

“Okay. Let’s press it for a minute so it’s a little easier to work with.” 

Suna nods and puts it under one of the heavier trays. 

“Do ya know where ya want it?” 

“On my arm.” Suna pulls up the left sleeve of his sweater, exposing his forearm. 

Osamu nods. “Lemme just disinfect the area.” 

He grabs Suna’s arm and places it in on the counter, wiping it down with an alcohol wipe, then pulls the flower out from under the tray and dips it in the tray of ink, letting the excess drip off. 

“Ready?” He asks. 

Suna nods. Osamu straightens the flower and gently presses it to Suna’s arm. He pats down the edges with a towel, making sure they all get printed evenly. It reminds Suna of the temporary tattoos he and his sister would put on as kids, and when Suna tells him this, Osamu snorts. 

Osamu waits a second then slowly pulls it off, revealing an exact imprint of the daffodil. 

“Woah,” Suna breathes. 

“Cool, right?” Osamu smiles. 

Suna nods. It really does look cool. 

“It’ll look even better once I actually tattoo it and it’s not just ink. But for now, I think this turned out pretty good.” 

He discards the flower onto the paper towel. “All done,” he says, pulling his stained gloves off. “Now we just wait for it to dry.” 

While they wait, Suna notices Osamu staring at a spot in his face. 

“What?” He reaches a hand up. “Is there something on my face?” 

“Yeah,” Osamu says quietly, his eyes still on Suna’s cheek. “Ya actually have some dirt right there.” He points to a spot on his own face. 

“What? Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” Suna wipes at his cheek, trying to get the dirt off. “Is it gone?” 

“No, lemme just—“ 

Osamu licks at his thumb and brushes it over a spot on Suna’s cheek. He touches him gently, like he’s holding something precious in his hands, and the feeling makes Suna’s breath catch in his throat. 

“All gone,” Osamu whispers, but his hand still cups Suna’s cheek, his thumb softly stroking it. 

Suna holds his breath, scared that he’ll make a sudden movement and disrupt Osamu’s soft touch. 

They inch closer to each other. Osamu continues stroking Suna’s cheek, his thumb cool on Suna’s heated skin. He brings his other hand up to cup Suna’s cheek and Suna can only sit there, waiting for Osamu to do something, _anything_. 

He leans in closer, breath hitting Suna’s lips, and just as Osamu’s about to connect their lips, a knock on the door breaks them apart. 

Suna jolts back and rolls his chair away from Osamu’s to create some distance between them. He feels a blush creeping down his neck and ducks his head to hide his face from Osamu. 

Osamu clears his throat. “Come in.” 

Bokuto’s head peeks through the door. “Is it done? I wanna see.” 

“Yeah, it’s done,” Osamu says. “Come an’ take a look at it.” 

Bokuto comes into the room and stands behind Suna, peering over his shoulder. “Damn, that looks beautiful.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” Osamu says, but he’s not looking at the ink on Suna’s arm. Instead, his eyes search Suna’s face. 

“Is it dry yet?” Suna asks, still not making eye contact. 

The faster he gets out of here, the better. 

Osamu drags his eyes away from Suna’s face and touches a light finger to the ink. The small touch sends a jolt of electricity racing through Suna’s body. When his finger comes back clean, he nods. 

“Then, I—um,” Suna clears his throat. “I should probably get going.” 

“Right.” Osamu nods, not looking him in the eye. “Thanks for the help.” 

“Of course. Anytime.” 

When Suna exits the room, he runs the rest of the way out of the shop and across the street, ignoring Sakusa’s raised brow.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you to [aya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/littleboat/pseuds/littleboat) and [regan](https://www.archiveofourown.org/users/pancake_surprise) for for beta reading
> 
> I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter !! kudos and comments are greatly appreciated :)) 
> 
> come say hi on [twt](https://twitter.com/atsum00s) !


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